


The Ninth Circle

by nietzsche300



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nietzsche300/pseuds/nietzsche300
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allie's slotted after the attempt on Bea's life, while Bea wakes up unsure of what happened to her or who was involved.  Ballie one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ninth Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I wouldn't allow myself to watch this week's episode until I finished, but I couldn't resist watching the preview for next week's on youtube. Ahhhhhh. In the meantime, hope you enjoy what turned out to be my version of Afterlife. At least in terms of Ballie. Cheers!

Allie hadn't believed her, that was the problem. Not at first anyways, and then....the chaos of the room drowned out her screams as Bea lie motionless on the floor. Other members of the Hand gripped Allie's arms tightly, holding her up at that point. Her throat ached and her face was covered in tears. All she could think was of was Bea walking out of the closet that day, eyes full of disappointment, and that being the last time they ever spoke to one another.

How had this happened?

“Bea,” Mr. Jackson said again, placing his hands over her still chest. He pressed again and again, Bea's eyes lifelessly pointed up at the ceiling. 

Would those eyes ever warmly stare into her own ever again; find her across the room while everyone was wrapped up in their own shit; shyly turn away from hers when Allie's grin grew a little too suggestive for Bea's inexperienced mind to handle?

A flash of green caught Allie's eye. She turned to see Kaz, held up by her waist, kicking and screaming about dead psychopaths. For a moment the older blonde stills, eyes finding Allie's, then she just slumps in the arms that are holding her. The rage drowned out of her, a look of guilt and understanding weighted her wrinkled brow, but Allie didn't have have a moment to think about it. 

Suddenly the sound of a deep breath being taken cut through the room, followed by sputtered coughs, and Mr. Jackson yelling for everyone to get back. 

“Bea,” Allie called, hoping those once dead eyes would turn towards her, but they don't. They were just as empty as before though, drifting but never landing but at least her chest was moving. Something was wrong. Something more than the water that had filled her lungs, but before Allie could move closer the new guy suggested they all be slotted and Mr. Jackson agreed. 

“What? No. This is bullshit. We had nothing to do with this.” Allie looked up and realized it wasn't her sisters holding her arms anymore, but two guards that had finally made it into the kitchen. They were all struggling against guards now, except for Bea, and Joan who she saw cradling her badly burned hand as she was pulled off the floor. It had been her all along. She had them arrested. Used them. Allie started to struggle, lurching towards Ferguson intending to continue what Kaz had started, but she was caught. She felt a stinging in her right arm and everything went black. 

“There's a grand irony in this.”

Allie looks around frantically, heart still hammering in her chest as it was when she saw Bea laying with her head in the sink. She was in the slot. The small window, plain walls. It was dark outside. 

“The last time you were in the slot was the beginning of you and Bea Smith's untimely relationship.”

Joan. She must have been out long enough for Joan to get bandaged up and slotted, hopefully with a new strike against her. They had all been so naive. Taking her in while the rest of the prison shunned her. But who could imagine someone so evil that they'd use a ganging to gain sympathy, and protection? A few of the other prisoners, the ones that had a history with her, even they had looked at her different after Tasha. Maybe that was all planned, too.

“Was it not?”

Hell, she'd probably been found out as a spy ages ago and that's why the freak had her slotted in the first place. Each and every one of them, just pawns in a sick game. If this all would have worked out to Joan's liking, she would be a free woman in a few months while people like Bea lie dead. Herself, her sisters, and Kaz rotting away never having known what the former governor was up to until it was all over. 

“You were just really starting to connect. Physically. Sneaking off to do more than have those whispered conversations about Kaz and I. Maybe she was even starting to feel something real for the young leering thug that – “

“Fucking give it up, already, yeah,” Allie cut in. The last thing she wanted was to deal with was more mind games from the former governor of the Wentworth. “You really think that I want to hear shit that comes out of your mouth right now?”

“And that is what you just can't seem to grasp, young Allie. All of this is entirely out of your control. The chances of you being able to prevent me from doing anything lessens each and every time we encounter one another. The more I pushed you towards her, the easier it all became. She was so wrapped up in this ridiculous notion of pleasure, all else around her became secondary.” 

“Fine. I'll do the talking now,” Allie said getting up from the bunk, and standing close to the wall. Her breathing labored. “You've fucked up, Joan. You see that, don't you? Bea isn't dead, and now you're going to be charged with an attempted murder with five witnesses who you got locked up. And, let's just say, you somehow aren't locked in protection for the rest of your stay here. If I ever see you in general again, I'll take you to the ground and stomp on that hand of yours until the skin that's left peels off. Or have you forgotten who it is you've been fucking with?”

“I haven't forgotten.” Joan said. “And now, neither will Smith.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Flashes of Kaz's guilty stare entered her mind. They had ran straight to the kitchen, following Kaz and questioning what was going on. Allie stopped asking questions when she realized where they were headed. Her steps had faltered, and the anxiety she felt not being in her and Bea's secret spot quadrupled. “The Hand doesn't kill,” she yelled, itching to reach through the walls and make good of her threat without Ferguson ever returning to general. 

“No, you just maim. Much better, I agree. There's a certain art in leaving your victim to mull over the trauma you've cause them. Unable to vocalize their fear, but haunted by it nonetheless.”

“Shut up,” Allie spat, hands slapping against the walls. “I'm nothing like you, you sick freak.”

The door to her slot clicked open and Bridget Westfall walked in. “Allie, sit down.” 

“Another irony,” Joan added. “Two blonde women in love with former Top Dogs.”

Just as Allie started to say something, Bridget told the guard to take Joan to have her bandages checked, and that she and Allie will be fine on their own until they got back. The door was shut and Allie moved to stare out into the slot atrium as Joan was escorted out of the slot, a small smile on the freak's face as she turned back to meet the blonde's gaze. 

“Tell me about your relationship with Bea Smith,” Bridget said, sitting on the bed as she watched Allie turn towards her. 

Allie scoffed, walking over to the distorted window in the room. 

Bridget simply continued. “Last time we saw one another you were more than willing to talk about how much she inspires you. What's changed?”

“I know how much she hates that, for one.” 

Bridget nodded. “And why do you think that is?”

Allie's head snapped towards the woman. She took in her relaxed posture; the way she crossed her legs, propped her head on her hand, elbow on her knees. Her posture was inviting, body angled towards her in a way that made Bridget seem genuinely interested but a bit too well executed. Clearly engineered.

“Do you know why you're in the slot?” Bridget asked after a moment.

“Because the screws in this place are too fucking stupid to remember we were at a sit in while that freak was trying to kill Bea. To keep Kaz and I from getting the justice Bea deserves, which is clearly beyond the capabilities of every fucking screw in here. It's all true, isn't it? The rumors about back when that bitch was governor?”

“We're not here to talk about Ferguson.” She sits back then, the arm once used to support her head reaching behind her to prop her up in another relaxed position. “The other women have been talking. They say you all helped Ferguson. That you made sure her and Bea would be left alone so Ferguson.”

“Bullshit. The Hand doesn't kill, especially not women.” 

All of them had sworn by that one rule especially. Protecting women where the system failed didn't include tracking down women to punish, though they were very aware of how abusive some women could be. They just didn't want to be part of a system that already so easily punishes women while letting men slide. It was these criminal men that they saw as true dangers of society, but really their own sexism had blinded them to someone more evil than anyone they had punished in the name of justice.

“They say you got Bea to trust you, meet you at the future location of the crime for days and then locked her in the supply room for Joan to finish her off.”

Bridget's calm voice started to make Allie's skin itch. How anyone could be so undisturbed by what happened in the kitchen was beyond her, even if they weren't Bea's secret lover. The way her died hair had floated in the water, fanning out like a dark halo...it made Allie nauseous and angry.

“The sit in, getting the other women and all the officers, even the Governor to believe you were there for Maxine Conway, it was just a distraction. All of it, including the secret meetings. You toyed with her history of abuse that created insecurities within her, got her to open up to you, trust you over time. Then you pulled her in even closer, pushed her physical boundaries to the point where she was literally consumed with the idea of having you.”

“Just stop.” 

Bridget clears her throat, and doesn't say another word. 

No one knew about them sneaking off except for her sisters, minus Kaz, and no one knew about their opening up to one another at all. “You've seen her, haven't you?” When the woman doesn't answer, Allie takes her silence as a yes. “She feels weak. After years of being with that prick husband of hers, she can't imagine anyone looking at her, hearing her story and finding the strength to press on. To stand up for what they believe in, and protect those who have been victimized, like her.”

“And what do you think about this insecurity she feels from her abusive marriage, and her giving in to killing Brayden Holt?”

That day when she'd walked in on Bea cutting herself, she'd seen the shame and self-hatred at being seen as weak, but Allie understood. She had known the woman had cut herself, but the she hadn't realized how often until that day. There were so many little scars, a few that were fresh and raw. The last time she saw them they were all healed, smoothed over with the help of the vitamin E she'd given Bea. 

“It shocked her, being able to kill someone. Even if it was the guy who murdered Debbie. Bea is kind, and she's good. And she's strong. Stronger than me, that's for sure. Probably stronger than anyone in this shithole. She doesn't even want to be Tog Dog.”

Bridget brows raise. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah, actually, but she shouldn't have had to.”

Another thing she herself hadn't seen until it was too late. Despite how well she read Bea, she'd never really seen that she didn't want to be Top Dog at all. Just like she hadn't learned that it was impossible that Bea, someone who would never wish Wentworth on anyone, would have them all arrested to get some larger thing done. That was Ferguson's way of doing things. Maybe even Kaz's. Allie didn't want to think about that. 

Earlier on that day that things went to shit, when she saw that Bea had decided to wear her hair down again, though it seemed to be up high when she was on her top game, Allie had felt comforted by the softness of the look. She knew Bea would be at their spot, that they'd talk over one another apologizing and get back to making out like teenagers in the closet. Instead she'd found her nearly drowned. 

Bridget stood up, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I'm sorry that this has all happened, especially when it did. Don't let this place get between you now.”

“Can I see her?” she asked. 

“I'll see what I can do,” Bridget answered, signaling for the guard to let her out. “Until then, I'll make sure you're released back into general.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

**Earlier that day**

Bea's eyes were too heavy to open again, but at least she could feel herself put real effort into it. She remembered water, cold metal against her chest, all around her. Everything sounded so far away and muffled, but steadier and steadier through it all she could hear her name being called.

“Allie?” she croaked. The distant sounds quieted, the voice changed in tone and says something about everyone leaving. Again she tried to push her eyes open fully, but the light burned them. “What time is it?” She was supposed to meet Allie.

“Bea, you're in medical. Can you tell me what you remember about the events in the kitchen yesterday?”

The kitchen. Their secret place. She forced her eyes open, ignoring the stinging that spread throughout her skull. Through the blur of it all she could see that the voice talking to her was a brunette, hair pulled back tight, short in stature. It was all wrong. It was Vera, and past her was blonde hair but no prison jumper. 

“Where's Allie?” Had she been in the kitchen too? Was she hurt? “I was going to meet her and...” Her head had been spinning when she'd left the yard. It was the nervousness, she was sure. Just a bit more intense than her usual joyous anxiety at the thought of seeing the blonde, and considering what she had to say to Allie, it made sense that she felt a bit more on edge. 

“That's it. Can you remember anything? Anything at all about the Red Right Hand and Ferguson being in the kitchen with you?” Vera asked, as she took a step closer to the bed.

Bea began to see the lines of worry and bags under the woman's determined eyes. Something horrible had happened. “Ferguson? It was just supposed to be us....”

“You and Ferguson?” Vera asked.

Bea pictured Allie grinning with a mop in her hands, allowing Bea to pass by her to go into their corner of the prison first. This time Allie doesn't ever come in though, and suddenly Bea is dizzy, pots and pans clamoring to the ground around her. The door starts to crack open...

“The rumors are, the Hand staged a protest for Conway. Somehow having already gotten the drugs into your system, Ferguson would take care of you, no obstacles.”

She'd been drugged. And who else other than Ferguson, and maybe Juice, could do such a thing. For a moment she wondered how Ferguson could have even know where she'd be, if Allie hadn't told her. The former governor had been watching them very closely, and she had gotten Allie slotted just to get her out of the way, right? 

“I don't know...I'm – I can't,” she started again, but still her mind was unsure of what exactly she was meaning to say. Her eyes left Vera's and she could see that it was Bridget that was the blonde in the room. She'd forgotten another person was there, and the woman was watching her more closely than she felt comfortable with for some reason. Bea was sure Bridget could see the panic and confusion that she felt, and having called for Allie first, Vea felt too exposed. 

Bridget stood from the counter she was leaning on. “Perhaps I should try, if you wouldn't mind giving us a moment.”

Vera started to speak but pulled her lips into a thin line instead. She gave Bea an apologetic smile that looked like it hurt, but that was normal for the woman. There was no wonder why the inmates called her Vinegar Tits. Walking out quickly, the sounds of her short heels clack against the floor and can be heard for quite some time, the prison is so quiet. Bea hadn't realized how quiet it was until she was left alone with Bridget, who now stood at the bed staring down at her with the delicate look of empathy that seemed to be permanently in place when Bea saw her. 

“Is Allie Novak the woman you came to speak with me about?”

Bea frowned. That was why she was nervous. Pressed for time, she'd gone to talk to the woman before going to the yard. She could hear Bridget telling her about the women who'd thought they were straight panicking when they suddenly fell in love with a woman. It was as if she were a deer in the road when it was said, but whatever was coming never hit her, just the warmth of its lights. Of its understanding.

“Yeah, it was. Is Allie.”

Another sympathetic smile, but this one felt oddly tender instead of guilt ridden and forced. She understood what Franky saw in the woman, which is why she had turned to her to sort out her feelings. She and Bridget hadn't talked since she'd gotten her life sentence, and even then there had been little talking before Bea had left. Back then she thought she'd be able to handle being Top Dog for the rest of her life, and nothing else. What was there to talk about? By the time she really started to fall apart, cutting had seemed way better of a solution than confessing her anguish, or the memories of joy that kept her going but haunted her too.

Then Allie came along. 

“She was with Kaz and the rest of the women who were protesting for Maxine,” Bridget said, after a moment. 

Bea turned her head away, staring out the glass into an empty hallway. She wondered if it was day or night. If everyone was sleeping or locked away in their blocks. The last time she'd seen Allie she'd found out that the Hand literally thought she'd had them arrested, like Kaz had said to her the first day back after the fire. At the time it had confused her, but she let it go, and apparently Allie reminding her was a bit too late for it to matter. 

“The Hand thinks I'm the reason they're in here. I tried to tell Allie that it wasn't me, tried to get the detective on Ferguson's case to look into it for me, so he could prove it to her,” she said, gripping the sheets in frustration. Allie was so quick to laugh off her saying that she hadn't done it, and had made it worse by saying that it didn't matter to her anyhow instead of believing her. 

“He did. Will Jackson played the recording the detective brought. It was Joan pretending to be an inmate as she gave the cops Kaz's name as the leader of the Hand. If Kaz hadn't heard that recording and led the women into the kitchen, Allie wouldn't have been able to pull your head out of the sink in time and you wouldn't be alive.”

Of course it was Ferguson. That day she'd met with Kaz to get the name of Ferguson's lackey, the then governor must have been listening somehow. Supposed privacy be damned. The freak never was one to follow the rules. Now they all knew the truth and could see Ferguson as who she was, evil. Still, Bea can't help but wonder if the freak had pulled them all in closer than she thought was possible. She knew Kaz hated her, but wanting her dead was something beyond that. What if all of the Hand was in on it all, and they really had left her to get murdered by Joan while they distracted everyone with another bullshit protest?

“You still think Allie may have been involved?” Bridget asked. “When you came to see me it seemed like the two of you were in a very new and exciting place. We both know she has an extreme admiration for you.”

Their time in the slot had been such a relief, a gift really. Being back at Wentworth after the fire, facing the idea of the rest of her life being just as much as an abusive fight as her time outside of prison, it was too much for her. The women had chosen her to lead and protect them, and they had chosen her again but this time she had Allie. Considering what happened to her though, she can't hep but wonder if she really did have Allie. The blonde could have just wanted toy with her emotions, have her physically, and then literally discard her. Bea's history with abuse would not allow her to ignore the what ifs. 

“They all admired me, supposedly.” She felt hot breathing on her ear, heard whispers of how she was admired under the flow of water splattering in the sink. The drops bouncing up and hitting her, gloved hands uncurtaining her face – She shook her head and blinked rapidly until it was just Bridget there with her. “How else could they have known about our spot?”

“Only the two of you can truly know what you have, but from what I understand, despite her association with the Hand, Allie's opinion of you has not lessened since they've been arrested. If anything, I'd say the opposite has happened. Would you really be okay not knowing how involved she truly was for the rest of her time here? With stopping yourself from possibly experiencing something that could truly make you happy, like she did before all of this happened.”

It was the most Bridget had said since their private conversation began, and like their time in her office, it was just what Bea needed to hear. “She's in the slot?” The other woman nodded, and Bea sighed. She looked back into the empty hallway. “If you talk to her, and she seems--” She didn't know what to say, distraught, worried, sincere. “I'd like to see her.”

“Okay.” Bridget grabbed her folder, and headed towards the door. “Rest for now.”

_“You're late,” Allie said, as she closed the door behind her. She leans on it for only a moment before walking closer to Bea, hands still by her side but eyes roaming Bea's face, neck, chest._

_Bea laughs at Allie's constant leering, that fluttering in her stomach still there but easier to manage each time. “Had a few things I needed to take care of,” she explained, gripping the work counter behind her. The conversation she had with Westfall had gone better than expected, and she'd left feeling so good. So sure. She remembered the joy that she had finally fully allowed to engulf her, but still she shook with the anticipation._

_Finally, Allie's fingers reach out to trail up her sides as she moves closer. “More of that good old justice to spread, hmm?”_

_She laughs again. Allie always spoke as if Bea truly was off being a hero when they weren't together. “It was a bit more personal than that,” she said, studying the features Allie's features then. Those bright eyes and full lips, always with a slight curl. “I had to be sure.”_

_“Sure of what?” Allie asked, seemingly amused by Bea's serious tone but dreamy expression. Bea knew the younger woman found her nervous eagerness amusing, sexy even, which Bea didn't get._

_She reached behind Allie's neck, fingers dipping into her blonde hair and leaned forward. “This.” As soon as their lips touch, Bea hears the lock to the room click into place and her eyes shoot open._

The lights were painfully bright again, and the hallway was still empty. Her right hand was moist where they gripped the sheets and it took her a moment to realize someone was holding the other one. She turned and was greeted with a very tired looking Allie, no grin playing across her lips, her hair a bit of a mess. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Bea,” Allie said, gripping tighter. “You were just lying there. That fucking psychotic bitch, Joan. I can't believe –“

“Shhh,” Bea said, turning her hand to hold Allie's in hers. She could see that the blonde had been crying already, and the anger in her eyes talking about Ferguson's was one she'd never seen in Allie's eyes before. “I'm fine, now.”

“All I could think about was you knowing that I thought you turned us into the cops to get Joan arrested.” Bea starts to slide her hand away, but Allie doesn't let her. “I couldn't stand the idea of that being our last conversation,” she continued. “When I was outside, I may have thought you were fucking amazing, but being here with you, that's how I really got to know who you truly are. The idea of you turning us in comes from before all that, and you have to understand Kaz telling us it was you...We never questioned anything she told us really, because she's done so much for all of us. We just figure, no matter how obsessive she gets, she means well. You know?”

Liz had said something similar soon after their return to Wentworth. Kaz just stood up to what she believed in, at least back then.

“When you told me it wasn't you, it was the first time in a while that I had really ever even thought about it, and I thought about everything I'd learned about you since then and realized it couldn't have done it. Every day you sacrifice yourself to protect the women, and like you said, you wouldn't with this place on anyone.”

They both smile then, enjoying the silence for a moment. 

“When I woke up, for a second I really thought you might have been in on trying to kill me. I thought I'd fallen for another person who didn't really give a damn about me,” Bea said, sliding her body closer. “We're both guilty of thinking the other was capable of doing something horrible to the other. And that's okay. This place is fucked. And now we know better.”

“I didn't realize how fucked this place really was until all this happened,” Allie said, laughing. “I'm sorry, Bea.” She leaned over to move some of Bea's hair back, as she stared down into her eyes. 

Bea leaned into Allie's touch. “Me too.” She paused. “About Kaz.” Allie started to speak but Bea shakes her head. “Don't do anything. You can't be back in the slot when I get out of here.”

Allie's lips slide into that grin, Bea'd grown so found of. “Oh yeah? Got plans for me?” Allie asked.

“I might have a need for a new hand,” Bea said, and Allie didn't hesitate to lean down and capture her lips. Quick pecks turned into long, slow gliding of tongues. Bea's free hand reached up to pull Allie closer, and she moaned when Allie nipped at her bottom lip. She's shaking again when they pulled apart, Allie's forehead resting against hers. 

“Something to look forward to,” Allie whispered. 

It's no surprise to Bea that she's the first one to actually shed tears, or that she only felt slightly embarrassed by them. “Yeah,” she said, giving Allie a quick kiss. “Something to look forward to.” 

_Someone to love._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read. I'm sure I'm one of many fic writers who will be supplying happy endings fics (better than this one), since the writers for the show seems to want to drag it out, while we not so patiently wait. Bring on Bea rectifying not being there for her daughter, and gaining compassion for addicts! (which then leads to more Ballie, yes?)(Also -- Sorry for any mishaps, I am beta-less)


End file.
